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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953618">Images of War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainronnie/pseuds/saintseteth'>saintseteth (captainronnie)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Spoilers, War, implied seteth/rhea but its complicated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 14:57:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainronnie/pseuds/saintseteth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seteth having a nightmare about the war against Nemesis. He wakes up at Garreg Mach, shortly after he begun working there. Rhea finds him wandering alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Images of War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Ringing. I hear ringing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I feel...drops. Is it raining?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>can’t open my eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is someone shouting at me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No...it’s my heart...beating in my ears…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-- --</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cichol lay on his back and a heavy weight draped over his chest. His eyes were tightly shut, and he tried hard to pry them open. He couldn’t move his arms - they were pinned to his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A foreign voice entered his mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Open your eyes!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A crack of light flooded his vision. Blurred shadows appeared as his eyes tried to adjust. The shadows appeared as if they were several feet away, but he could feel movement above him. He squirmed under the pressure, attempting to free himself. He lifted his head and saw a body on top of him. A young girl with green hair and bright white robes. Yet, the closer he looked, he saw blood pooling out of a wound unseen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cethleann.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to scream, yet no sound escaped. He gasped, struggling harder to move out from under his dying daughter. He looked up and at the shadows battling above him. One figure remained a shadow, while the other turned into a familiar visage… his wife. Illyana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cichol watched as the figures fought. Nearly in slow motion, he saw her swing open too wide. A spear slowly dug under her armor, crunching through her body. He wrestled one arm free and reached forward. Tears pooled in his eyes, and another soundless scream echoed in his mind. He watched the woman fall to his feet as the shadow ran deeper into the battlefield</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was free from his bonds, yet he was too late. He cradled his daughter in his arms, and gently stroked the forehead of his dead wife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart pounded heavily; it was an ache so great, he nearly collapsed. His daughter slid to the ground and he clutched his chest. He choked, sputtering up blood. The pounding continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, it felt like his skin was on fire. He shut his eyes again, unable to see through the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice entered his head once more: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cichol tossed his head back and a loud roar cut through the silence. The burning continued as his body erupted into scales. He felt himself losing control as another force took over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-- --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth's eyes shot open and he launched up in his bed. He was out of breath and covered in sweat. He looked out the window and the moon was still high. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It must be the middle of the night.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wiped his eye - was he crying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. Over a thousand years had passed, and the memory still haunted him. How he couldn't save his wife, nor protect his daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, how he hated Rhea for that. She asked Cethleann to give her crest to a human, to fight in a war she barely understood...and for what? So Rhea could get vengeance for the Agarthans killing her mother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the war started, she seemed infallible. So righteous in her ambitions, and truly seeking a better life for those im Fódlan. By the end, he saw her for what she really was: bloodthirsty and selfish. She manipulated him in ways he still deeply regretted, although they felt like another lifetime ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two had minimal contact. Both of his brothers abandoned her, too. He lost touch with them long ago, but rumor stated they still roam the countrysides. If it weren't for the humans calling their deeds heroic, he wondered if Rhea would have ever agreed to make them all saints in her church. If it were up to him, he would have refused the status. However, his crest still lingered in the blood of the nobles of Aegir, and Cethleann's in Hevring. Whether he liked it or not, his imprint on history had already been made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some nights, when the dreams became especially violent, he wondered why he returned to Garreg Mach. The Seiros he knew had truly changed - he could see that. She was just as kind and caring as he remembered… and beautiful. She seemed to genuinely love the people of Fódlan, and not only because they worshipped her mother. But a spark of fire lingered behind her eyes. He was wary of what that could mean for the future. If anyone were to cross her again, it could mean bloodshed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes. He wished he still believed fully in the Goddess. Though he didn't watch her die, he felt...disconnected. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knew that. But...she was gone. All the divine power rested with Rhea. It was a façade, yet she had everyone convinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth shifted, moving the sheets off him and planting his feet on the floor. He hesitated a moment before standing. The room was cold, and he shivered as he walked over to a nearby chair. He grabbed the robe that was draped over the back and put it on. The stone floor was also freezing, so he slipped on a pair of shoes before leaving his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monastery was peaceful. No one was out and about - not even a student in the library, studying late into the night. He wandered the halls trying to clear his head of the memories long past. Seteth found himself standing out on the balcony overlooking the cathedral. The moonlight cast a soft glow on the building and glistened off the stained glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attention broke when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Rhea walking towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Rhea, what are you doing awake?” He asked, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could ask you the same thing,” She responded. He turned away and folded his arms tighter across his chest. She quietly asked, “Was it the dream again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lower lip and nodded his head. He sighed heavily. He felt Rhea hook her arm under his and he lowered his arm to his side. She held his hand, clasping their fingers together. He felt her other hand reaching up his sleeve, running her fingers over his forearm, and tracing the long scars that ran down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” He said softly, jerking his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea frowned. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth’s head rolled towards Rhea, and he looked down at her feet. “I should have no reason to trust you, or to be here. But I...I trust the Goddess and her teachings. She restored the world for us to thrive, and if I can’t continue that legacy, then I don’t deserve to be a saint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you refused, you would still deserve that title. You’re a kind and good man, and a better father. Even if I was selfish, you weren’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced up, and his green eyes met hers. He stared without response, looking for some trace of lying or manipulation. Instead, all he saw was sincerity and concern. He pulled his hand away and turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be getting back to sleep.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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